Charred Memories
by hollyhobbit101
Summary: Mary needs to have a serious talk with Sam, but where do they start when there's 33 years of missed time between them? Tag to 12x22, Who We Are


**A/N: Maybe a more appropriate title for this would be 'Season 13 Starts In 3 Days But I Still Haven't Finished My Season 12 Fics Whoops' but I don't think that would get many reads. I'm going to try (emphasis on 'try') to write and publish them both by Thursday. I can't promise anything because college is kicking my ass but I'll do my best.**

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She needs to have a serious talk with Sam, so she goes to his room after they're done cleaning up. She hesitates outside his door and wonders if this is really a good idea, but she knows this will have to happen at some point, and there's no time like the present, right? So she knock.

"Come in," he calls so, taking a deep breath, she twists the handle and enters.

Sam is sitting at his desk, studying some files when she walks in. She's never been in his room before, and she's shocked by how bare it is. There's nothing on the walls to tell of Sam's personality, and none of his personal belongings are displayed anywhere. The bed is made, and a few books are stacked in neat piles on his desk.

"Mom," Sam says, clearly surprised. "Hey." He rises from where he's sat and shuffles awkwardly, clasping and unclasping his hands, eventually just shoving them in his pockets. A silence hangs heavy between them as she debates what to say.

"Sam..." she begins, unsure. "Has Dean- Has he told you anything about what happened when I was... When he saved me?"

Sam frowns and shakes his head. "No, why? Something I should know?"

"No!" she blurts quickly. Too quickly. "Maybe. More like something _I_ should know. Um..." She sighs. "When we were in my head, Dean told me some things. About your lives, about what happened to you boys and your dad after I died. About you." She stops and looks nervously up at Sam, biting her lip. His expression has turned guarded and she again wonders if this was a good idea.

"What did he say?" Sam barely whispers. "Mom?"

She lets out a shaky breath and twists her hands together. "Who was she?" she asks, not meeting Sam's eyes.

"Who?"

"Dean said there was a girl, and that she died. That they killed her," she amends. "Is that why you came back to hunting after you got out?"

Sam has turned a few shades paler and he looks shocked. He sits down heavily on the edge of his bed and rubs a shaking hand over his face. He doesn't say anything, but it's clear this is a sore subject for him, and she immediately regrets asking, feeling a blush rise on her face.

"I'm sorry," she breathes, backing away. "I shouldn't have asked. I'll just..." She turns, about to leave, but Sam's voice stops her in her tracks.

"Her name was Jessica."

* * *

Mary flips through the photos Sam has given her. There aren't many, and they're slightly faded with age (some have slightly burnt edges, but she dares not ask, afraid of what the answer might be) but it's clear these are precious to him, and Mary's eyes fill with tears as she looks. The topmost one is a candid shot of (a much younger, but still recognisable) Sam next to a pretty blonde girl - Jessica, she guesses. She's smiling up at him with a look of pure love and adoration, and Sam's hair is falling in his eyes as he looks at the ground, laughing at something she said. The others are along a similar vein; a few contain more of Sam's friends, and there's one at the bottom with a whole group dressed up in what must be Halloween costumes. She spots Jess in a nurse's outfit, but Sam is nowhere to be seen.

"Not a fan of Halloween?" she asks wryly.

Sam's mouth quirks up and he huffs a laugh. "Nah. I was always the photographer those nights. Jess always begged me to dress up, just once, but I always refused. The night that was taken was the night Dean came to get me, actually. The last night I saw her."

"Oh." She doesn't know what to say to that, so she quickly changes the subject. "Did you ever tell her the truth?"

"No. I kept saying that I would, but I could never bring myself to do it. After she died I thought that if I had only told her, maybe she would have been safe that night, but I'm not sure if it would have made a difference, you know?"

She does. For years she wondered about telling John, but it was an impossible choice. At the time it had seemed sensible to keep him in the dark, but now... Who knows?

"How?" she asks softly, dreading the answer. "Was it Azazel?"

"No. Well, technically, yes. But no. For the longest time I thought it was him, and I threw myself into hunting to try and kill it and get revenge. Kind of like Dad, actually. But then a few years ago I found out that he had only given the order. It was just a normal demon who killed her. Apparently Azazel had demons following me around all my life, possessing people close to me, so he could keep an eye on me. One of them was one of my college friends, Brady. He was the one who did it."

"Oh Sam," she breathes. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"But it is. I started all this with that deal."

Sam smiles slightly. "Mom, if it hadn't been for that deal, we wouldn't even be here. You did what you had to do to save Dad, and you can't blame yourself for anything that's happened since. It's nobody's fault; not yours, not Dad's, not ours. It just is."

She smiles, relieved, and wraps her arms round him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He puts one arm around her and they sit there for a moment, until Dean's voice comes reverberating down the hallway.

"Are we gonna celebrate or what?"

They both laugh, and stand up. Sam gathers up the files he was studying earlier and carries them out the room with him. She furrows her brows in confusion.

"What's that?"

His expression turns serious and he sighs wearily. "Something the Brits gave me before we blew them up."

"That can't be good."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Come on, I'll fill you in."

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 **A/N: I hope that was okay. I feel the ending was a bit weird, but I tried. Please review if you have a moment! Bye!**


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